


Small Miracles

by BurningSlowly



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Short, Written in a day, spoilers?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 15:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19403344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningSlowly/pseuds/BurningSlowly
Summary: A ficlet about Aziraphale thinking back on miracles.





	Small Miracles

Miracles were something Aziraphale viewed as commonplace. Not that he hated them or anything, more so he was used to them as one might be used to rain. Miracles were not something that left him speechless or brought to tears to his eyes anymore, after all, most of the time it was him who performed them. The large miracles, the ones that shaped the history of mankind itself tended to leave him only exhausted, but it was all part of the job of being an angel- perform miracles to place goodness into the world.

Perhaps it was the fact that he'd spent so much time away from Heaven that had led him to, some would say, using his ability to create miracles rather frivolously. He'd been chastised plenty for it by Gabriel. Gabriel was one of the most respected angels in Heaven nevertheless, he really couldn't see the harm in sending a little help to those that needed it without being assigned to do so. “Rules are rules” Gabriel often reminded. He couldn't go about miracle-ing everyone's troubles away no matter how desperately he wanted to. So he followed the rules, well whenever his path didn't cross Crowley. 

Crowley had no issues using his powers in whatever way he felt. Aziraphale had often wondered if it was a demon thing- the not caring for rules. Crowley definitely wasn't like any other demon. Aziraphale was sure there was a great deal of good in the supposed blackened heart. The angels in Heaven would find it unthinkable for a demon to possess goodness or a heart at all. He knew Crowley did have a heart that still held more feeling than even the kindest of angel. But that wasn’t how he was supposed to view a demon. Demons were evil, unforgivable, the ones who had fallen. To think that the relationship between an angel and a demon could be anything beyond their roles of adversaries was impossible. Even so, Aziraphale couldn’t remain in the mindset of such a clean cut division.

From their very first talk on the wall of the Garden of Eden he suspected that Crowley wasn't as evil or cunning as he might’ve assumed a demon to be, even his snake eyes didn’t appear threatening when accompanied with a smile. But they had jobs to do and his was to prevent the corruption of souls that any demon regardless of inner kindness they held. And yet somehow Crowley had planted in his head- as he assumed most demons did when suggesting things- that they didn't have to play by Heaven or Hells rules. Decades, eras, millenniums passing with only a few run-ins with each other morphing into a tedious tentative agreement to not upset each other mission on Earth soon cultivated into something closer than kinship. 

The Almighty would surely cast him downwards if their friendship were discovered yet he couldn't fully remove himself from Crowley's presence. He’d tried of course; several times in fact. Mostly his want to distance himself from Crowley came directly after speaking with Gabriel and the other highly appointed angels were all his work would be scrutinized as though he just received his wings yesterday. The way they made him feel so small under their disapproving glances set off the need to be a better angel, to move past agreements with Crowley, to be more like Gabriel and the others. As quick as those feelings came it all vanished whenever he returned to Earth. Most angels didn’t like sticking around on Earth. He did. Each moment in Heaven filled him with a sense of loss. Earth was beautiful. Earth had interesting humans. There was food he could only get there. It was ever changing... It was where Crowley was; always appearing in front of him as though he knew he'd need to hear a playful tease about the wondrous work set out by Heaven. And Crowley would perform little “demon miracles” to bring good food- that Crowley himself never partook in- and wine as they just talked. 

Once Aziraphale asked if he worried about Hell reprimanding him for frivolous miracles to which Crowley laughed hysterically, his eyes springing little tears as he hung his head back letting long red hair fall with the motion. From then on Crowley practically flaunted the idea of a demon carrying out miracles that Heaven definitely wouldn't abide. Crowley did it for his sake- like turning Shakespeare's  _ Hamlet _ into a well-known masterpiece instead of the flop it was destined to be. “Small miracles, angel.” Crowley had said with that sly grin. “As long as something good and something bad happens what does it matter who does what? In the end, it cancels itself out doesn't it?” 

That had officially cemented the basis of their friendship. The odd duo both doing right and wrong with only a coin toss to determine whose turn it was to do the job. Truthfully he enjoyed setting the balance through little things like a lie or instilling a little doubt- Crowley never made him do anything that would make him fall from grace, besides befriending a demon that is.

Crowley rarely seemed worried about being seen together and so he too tried not to think so much of it. It was easy not to think about the ramifications of their relationship with the way being besides Crowley made him feel. Their shared lunches, their meetings at the park, to the philosophical discussions in the comfort of his book store all made it so easy to forget that they were supposed to be on opposite sides. Being with Crowley made him safe, comfortable, secure with himself, cherished. 

The feeling had to be mutual he sure based on the few personal small miracles Crowley had done for him like literally saving his neck back during the French Revolution or preventing his prized prophecy books from turning into ash. For him, the feelings had grown, metamorphosed into something that he hadn’t quite come to defining despite the many years he had to come to a conclusion.

“What are you thinking about angel?” Crowley asked handing him a vanilla cone. 

“Thank you,” he smiled, taking the offered treat. “I was thinking of miracles,” he said looking out to the water where a few ducks had gathered. It was a lovely day.

“Miracles?” Crowley asked leaning against the bench, it was an action that Aziraphale always thought was cool. Crowley grinned, his eyes sparkled even while shielded behind darkened sunglasses. “Thinking of all the frivolous miracles you can do now that upstairs,” Crowley gestured to the sky with his popsicle. “is letting us be?”

That was the latest miracle they’d performed- saving the world from Armageddon and living through the punishment of stopping the anticipated battle between Heaven and Hell. He looked at Crowley, clearly, the demon was conjuring endless possibilities. He’d always liked that look, the one that made Crowley appear like a dreamer who saw nothing as impossible.

“Not exactly,” he began lapping his treat. Crowley took a bite of his popsicle as he cocked an eyebrow. “I was thinking more about past miracles” he explained. Crowley’s questioning brow still didn’t descend. “I don't think I thanked you for everything you’ve done...”

“It's nothing angel. We saved the world.” Crowley waved his arm as if to emphasize that the beautiful they were experiencing was in part thanks to their efforts. “Leave the rest in the past,” he said with finality, taking another bite of his popsicle. 

“I'd be lost without you Crowley.”

Crowley’s mouth turned downwards. “This better not be a precursor for another “we can't be together” speech. I will not go through that again.” Crowley said lowering his sunglasses.

“No. No I just...” He looked into those elliptical eyes. “I feel you do some much for me. You mean the world to me.”

“Oh shut up.” Crowley pushed his sunglasses back into place.

“I truly mean it.” Crowley looked at him, cheeks slightly tinted pink. “I feel at peace when I'm with you. I feel loved... Does that make sense?” 

Crowley slapped a hand on his forehead. “It’s almost as if you hadn’t realized I’ve loved you for the past 6000 years.” 

“You do love me?” He’d felt love many times but it was a secondary feeling from the humans he lived among. Never had it been directed at him... no that wasn’t true. There had been moments where he felt love that he couldn’t pinpoint the source of. Now he knew it had always come from Crowley. 

Rather impulsively he leaned forward to press a kiss onto Crowley's lips. A chaste kiss that he'd seen many human couples take part in before. Pulling back he watched Crowley's face turn scarlet. If it were any redder it would blend in with his fiery hair. 

Crowley stared at him before speaking “Your ice cream is melting.”

He laughed looking at the mess at his momentarily abandoned treat. With a wave, Crowley returned the ice cream back to its unmelted state.

“Thank you.”

“Just a small miracle nothing to thank me for,” Crowley said trying to hide his still red face.

Aziraphale shook his head. Of all the miracles in the world, he was the most grateful for the one that brought Crowley into his life.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the shortest fic I've ever written. Thank you to my muse who let this come to life without any problems.   
> I loved watching the show and a small miracle today led me to find the book at my local book sale so I'm super excited to read it! :)  
> Thank you for reading this ficlet.   
> May you have a wonderful day/ week/ month/ year!


End file.
